


Drowning One's Sorrows

by orphan_account



Series: The Telepath's Immortal [7]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Alternative Universe - Telepathy, Angst, Drinking, Getting Together, Ianto Is A Sad Drunk, Interlude, M/M, Mutual Pining, Original Character(s), Supportive Owen, Supportive Toshiko, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 14:23:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10810800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Ianto didn't usually get flat out drunk.Not unless he had a freshly broken heart and new memories to cry over.





	1. Ianto Jones Is A Sad Drunk (but he's also a really hyper and really tired drunk, idk)

**Author's Note:**

> omfg, everything i'm writing is hella sad atm, and i'm so sorry
> 
> (i promise, there's not too much suffering left, then the janto will come back full force)

 Ianto didn’t tend to drown his sorrows. 

 

 It was, in his opinion, a rather horrible way of dealing with one’s emotions but that had never stopped him before and he rather thought it wouldn’t stop him in the future. The bartender glanced up as the door slammed shut behind Ianto when he first entered the bar, and the Gifted waved halfheartedly to him. They were friends, of sorts - Ianto had first met James in university. His first impression was one of a dark mop of hair and green eyes pressed against his chest when James tripped over his own laces and into Ianto. 

 

 Safe to say, they’d formed a strong bond (mainly consisting of them bullshitting their way through studying and a high alcohol consumption. Ianto wasn’t surprised the dark-skinned Welshman had become a bartender).  

 

 James had recognised his body language as that of a hopeless, heartbroken man, like many who frequented the bar he co-owned with his father, and recommended something called a boilermaker, a delightful American beer cocktail consisting of one shot of whisky and a glass of beer.

 

 After one, Ianto had a buzzing in his ears, and his eyesight grew shorter. He was loosened up, so to speak, but the memories of just a few hours earlier still hurtled through his mind. The telepath ordered another drink, and James smiled sympathetically, but slid it over.

 

 “What’s up?” he asked, using the excuse of wiping down Ianto’s table to talk to him. A group of gangly barely-legals gave him a sour look from across the bench surrounding the bar, but Ianto ignored it, sipping his malty beer. 

 

 “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Ianto replied, his words slightly slurred. James wasn’t impressed, his eyebrow raising in a perfect mocking image of Ianto’s own whenever something had annoyed or irked (or sometimes, amused) him at the Hub.

 

 “I know that look, Ianto. Is this that American guy you were talking about last time you were here? When I got you drunk enough, you said everything was going really well. You even said you were going to ask him out for drinks sometime.”

 

 “Everything’s fine with Jack. How are Kate and Aeron?” Ianto avoided the question, instead asking his own about James’ two partners.

 

 Smiling, James blushed slightly. “Me and Kate are thinking about asking Aeron to marry us,” he mumbled and Ianto grinned with excitement. He’d only met Kate a few times, and Aeron even less, but James was besotted with the both of them, and he was so very glad things were working out for them. It was even more brilliant because James had seemed to have forgotten about Jack whilst gushing about his boyfriend and girlfriend (and soon, possibly, fiancees). 

 

 “Anyways, I’m not the one drowning my sorrows,” James reprimanded, folding his arms and staring down Ianto. The telepath had hoped James would let it go, but no such luck.

 

 Sighing, Ianto shook his head, but James prodded with his butter-wouldn’t-melt, pleading smile, and Ianto relented. “We had an argument,” he mumbled. Yeah, well that was the understatement of the year. 

 

 The last words Jack had said to him, telepathically at least, were ones full of hatred and anger. Ianto hadn’t doubted for a second that they had made the wrong decision in letting Jasmine go with the fairies, but Jack had doubted it. Jack had doubted him. 

 

 It hurt. It really did, but Ianto was steadily growing used to being there only for Jack to flirt and mess around with. He had relished every contact, mental or not, that they had shared, but the burning rage and hostility shooting spikes into Ianto’s heart from Jack had proved too much to handle.

 

 Ianto had cut off their connection. He couldn’t hear Jack’s thoughts, feel his emotions, read his mind. Nor, really, did he want to. Despite the aching loss in Ianto’s chest for his Linkmate (the name commonly given between those who shared a Link), it would have hurt so much more to feel the immortal’s constant hate. 

 

 “You had an argument? That can’t just be it! You said you have arguments all the time, and you and I both know that I despise the way he tosses you aside for that Gwen-bitch that you were talking about, but I honestly think that he could be so good for you. If he just took his head out of his arse,” James said, disdain evident in his voice, both for Gwen (who Ianto never actually remembered telling him about) and Jack - or rather, Jack’s actions.

 

 “It...he hates me, James. I know he does.”   
  


 “On what grounds? How do you know? And even if you were, I don’t know, telepathically linked or something,” James started and Ianto suppressed a giggle at the idea - James had no idea about his Gift and it was always so amusing when he said something like that - “you can’t be sure he didn’t just feel it for a split second. Sure, maybe he was angry or upset, but I think you were reading the hatred bit slightly wrong.”

 

 Ianto shook his head. As much as he wanted to believe it, he couldn’t. Jack hated him, it was as simple as that. Drinking the rest of his beer and downing his shot in less than ten seconds, Ianto pointedly asked with his eyes for another. Rolling his own eyes in exasperation, James placed it down with a thump - he’d already prepared one for the telepath, ready to go.

 

 James had gone to serve other customers whilst Ianto finished his third boilermaker. The whisky that they used in ‘The Kraken’ (the name of the bar) had a particularly high alcohol percentage, and Ianto could feel the natural depressant working its way through his system. It reacted strangely with his Gifted biology, so Ianto always stayed sober for the first three or four drinks but then became suddenly and incredibly drunk. It had always humiliated him, but was hilarious to Owen whenever they went out together.

 

 By the time Ianto was halfway through his fifth drink (James had stopped serving him after the fourth, but Ianto had pleaded with the other bartender working that shift - Mary, lovely girl, if a bit dim, considering she couldn’t tell Ianto really shouldn’t have had another drink, Ianto had noted - to help him out a bit), his vision was blurry and his stomach somersaulted across his insides.

 

 Ianto still wasn’t ready to call it a night.

 

 But he felt almost close to tears - Jack’s last words and emotions kept playing throughout his mind. The Gifted knew Jack didn’t trust him. He knew Jack didn’t see him as an aid to humanity, as the others in Torchwood were. To Jack, Ianto was just...Ianto. There was nothing special about him.

 

 Before he knew it, Ianto was being dragged outside by a pair of dainty, but distinctly male hands, the cold air hitting him like a ton of bricks. The suit he was wearing was thin, and Ianto was shivering in a few seconds, eyes opening blearily and snapping to look at James. The other man’s brow was knitted with concern and the large clock tower behind him showed it to be one in the morning and way past the Welshman’s shift.

 

 “Ianto? Are you alright?”

 

 Ianto moaned, his head pounding and vision swimming. He tried to nod his head, but James stopped him with a warm hand to the forehead, effectively pausing the movement and taking Ianto’s temperature all at once. 

 

 “God, you’re freezing, Ianto,” James murmured and then rooted around suddenly in Ianto’s pockets for something. Ianto had the image of James pilfering him, and giggled, the thought of the bartender in a ski mask and striped black and white costume cracking him up. 

 

 Seeming to have found what he was looking for, James stepped away, still holding Ianto’s shoulders to support the drunken telepath. Murmuring something quickly and quietly, with what Ianto assumed was a reassuring tone, James turned back to him and slid his phone back into his pocket. 

 

 “I’m having someone pick you up, okay? They’ll be here in a few minutes and then they’ll take you home. You don’t get drunk often, Ianto, your body isn’t going to take it well. Don’t take too much aspirin, and drink nothing but water, you hear me?” James asked, rubbing a hand up and down Ianto’s arm to try and keep the shivering Archivist warm. It wasn’t working, but the concerned, caring tone of voice had warmed Ianto’s heart anyways. 

 

 A car pulled up on the pavement next to them after a few minutes, in which Ianto had almost fallen asleep in James’ hold. The black vehicle swayed in Ianto’s vision when he opened his eyes, reminding him of a funhouse mirror illusion, but when the door snapped open, the illusion shattered.

 

 In its wake stood Jack, in all of his militarian glory.

 

 Ianto recoiled, but James held him tight. “Mmhack?” Ianto slurred, then tried again. “Jack?” His voice was raspy and quiet, but Jack nodded hastily, striding forward to where James and Ianto were standing.    
  


 Mumbling something to James, Jack rid himself of his long greatcoat, swinging it over Ianto’s shuddering shoulders and pulling him slightly closer in the process. They were in close proximity now, breaths just barely mingling together (which couldn’t have been pleasant for Jack, given the stenching breath - because of the alcohol - Ianto was sporting) and Ianto didn’t register when James departed with a quick goodbye.

 

 “Why...why are you hereee?” Ianto asked, his words trailing off to a hiss the longer he held it for. Exhausted creeping up on him, Ianto dropped his head down to Jack’s shoulder, burrowing into the skin there and holding Jack’s coat closer around him.    
  


 Sighing, Jack hugged him closer; admittedly, the contact would have been so much better if Ianto was in his right mind and not drunk as all hell, but Jack could find some way to beg for forgiveness later. “Let’s get you home, hmm?”

 

 “Mm, that sounds nice,” Ianto replied, staggering over to the SUV. Jack supported him all the way to the passenger seat, even opening it for the other man as if he were wooing a lady in the 1960s. Not that Ianto was a lady…

 

 Ianto was sprawled comfortably in the passenger seat by the time Jack had started the car up again, swathed in Jack’s coat; even flat out drunk, the Archivist was cautious in getting the fabric dirty, lovingly stroking it as Jack backed out of the parking space on the side of the road.

 

 Muttering Ianto’s address, as a question, and receiving a strangled moan of assent in reply, Jack silently drove them, keeping the radio off to save Ianto a worse headache. When James had rung from Ianto’s phone, he’d immediately gotten excited and horrifically nervous, desperate to fix their little ‘situation’. But James had quickly introduced himself as Ianto’s friend, told him the younger man was wasted and needed help, and given the address, Jack was disappointed. The fact Ianto had gone to drown his sorrows in a nearby bar surely must mean that Jack’s words truly did hurt him. 

 

 It took every ounce of willpower Jack had to not just say everything he ever possibly wanted to say to Ianto when the other was sure to not remember it, but Jack insisted that he wait until Ianto could decide properly whether or not he could even give whatever this thing was between them a chance. 

 

 Ianto didn’t struggle, only moaning in discomfort at being forced to move, when Jack pressed him close to help him up the front steps to Ianto’s home. Unsteady, Ianto pulled away from Jack for a second, and fished his keys out of his pocket, collapsing gratefully against the taller man once he’d handed them over. Smiling fondly, Jack unlocked the door and helped Ianto in, having him sit down on the stairs as he doubled back to lock the door again.

 

 It was slower progress going up the stairs, but Jack persisted and soon they were outside Ianto’s bedroom, stumbling in without any finesse. Giggling for no reason, Ianto turned to Jack with a bright smile, causing the immortal to match it. 

 

 “Get changed and I’ll go get you some water and a couple painkillers, okay?” Jack asked, checking again to ensure the telepath had understood him. Jack wasn’t even turned away when Ianto started shamelessly unbuckling his trousers, and yeah, Jack really shouldn’t have looked for so long, but damn, Ianto’s legs were fine, long and smooth and pale. He wasn’t even fixated on them in a sexual way, he simply adored the sight of skin, the vulnerability Ianto was showing, even though he was drunk.

 

 Jack was in Ianto’s kitchen to get the telepath the promised glass of water when he realised he had no idea where the medicine cabinet was. Rooting around aimlessly in the kitchen first (and noting exactly how much tea and coffee Ianto had stored there - and also his surprisingly poor diet choices considering the really quite gorgeous body), Jack eventually found a lone pack of paracetamol. Popping two out, Jack clambered back upstairs.

 

 Ianto was flopped on his bed, not even under the covers, with a pair of red plaid pyjama bottoms and a plain white t shirt, showing smooth expanses of flesh leading up from his dainty wrists. The telepath wasn’t quite asleep, and his head lazily jolted up when Jack came back.

 

 Whimpering, Ianto tried to grab the painkillers before Jack set them down, but Jack tutted and instead handed him the water, keeping the pills well away. “Have the medicine in the morning, it’ll work better if you actually have pain to solve,” Jack reprimanded, not unkindly.

 

 “But I do have pain right nowww,” Ianto whined, pointing with shaking fingers to his chest. “My heart hurts. James said I was heart-broken ‘cos of you,” he giggled, tone of voice completely different to the words he was saying.

 

 Jack was silent, chest aching for the poor boy he had hurt so much. Serious now, after sitting up blearily and drinking half the glass of water in slow sips, Ianto fixed Jack with a calculating stare. It wasn’t quite sad, but Jack could see the hurt behind Ianto’s emotionless mask.

 

 “Do you hate me, Jack?” he asked clearly, relaxing with a shy smile when Jack answered quickly and adamantly. 

 

 “No. Never,” Jack replied, before taking the glass away from the exhausted, loopy telepath. “Go to sleep, Ianto.” Ianto hummed in agreement, crawling beneath the covers with a yawn. Stroking his hair back from his face affectionately, Jack let his hand rest on Ianto’s cheek for a second before retreating. 

 

 Ianto was dead asleep in seconds. 

 

* * *

 He woke with a splitting headache and the desperate need to be sick. Staggering to the en-suite bathroom in his room, Ianto collapsed by the toilet and emptied the disgusting contents of his stomach. By the time he was stuck only dry heaving, an acrid stench hung in the air and Ianto’s eyes streamed tears of frustration and pain.

 

 Ianto couldn’t remember the last time he had been that drunk. Memories of the night before filtered in slowly as Ianto cleaned up the bathroom and washed the taste of vomit from his mouth - talking to James, being dragged outside, a long coat being draped around his shoulder, Jack...God, Jack’s coat, Jack’s car, Jack’s warmth next to him as they stumbled into his bedroom. 

 

 Fuck, what had he said to Jack last night? He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment in his mind when everything seemed to go to shit - ‘maybe because there wasn’t one’, his hopeful, fanciful side proposed before Ianto beat the idea away.

 

 Jack’s coat had been dumped on his own bed. The fabric was wrinkled and probably stunk of beer, but Ianto couldn’t really care less, his upset at Jack having been replaced with anger. He grabbed the clothing and tossed it over one arm, ready to give to the captain when they next met. 

 

 There was shuffling downstairs, and the sound of the news, quiet to anyone but Ianto. His splitting headache made it hard to focus on anything but the noise, so he quickly downed the two offered painkillers and careened downstairs, wary and cautious and entirely comfortable all at the same time. 

 

 “Ianto!” Jack was sitting on his sofa, watching television and looking all too much at home considering it was the first time he had been to Ianto’s house. Closing himself off, Ianto crossed his arms and skewered Jack with a glare. If he didn’t involve himself, he wouldn’t get hurt, Ianto decided.

 

 “What are you doing here?” he asked coldly, feeling terrible when Jack half flinched. 

 

 “I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” Jack answered, and oh it was so nice to hear those words less than a week ago, but now it just hurt. Everything Jack was saying and doing was textbook flirting; Ianto reiterated to himself unkindly that Jack was only using him for that. For flirting. For fucking around with. Because Ianto was a desperate, easy target who was too in love to see how shit his situation really was.

 

 “Well, I’m awake now, so you can leave.”

 

 Hurt, Jack’s eyebrows quirked up in concern. He stood up, powering down the television and gingerly walking over to where Ianto was standing, his own military greatcoat draped over his arm. “Ianto, are you okay?”

 

 Gritting his teeth against the urge to start sobbing and bury himself in Jack’s embrace, Ianto nodded his head yes. “Here’s your coat. You can leave now,” he repeated, handing the coat to Jack and leading him over to the door without looking behind him to see if the immortal had followed. Jack stood frozen for a second, staring down at his returned coat before hurrying after Ianto.

 

 “I don’t know if I should keep this, Ianto, you seemed awfully eager to hang onto it yesterday,” Jack attempted to tease, trying anything that he could think of to diffuse the tension. Ianto only barked out a humourless laugh, shaking his head and refusing to meet Jack’s gaze. 

 

 Somehow, the captain had migrated to a spot outside of the door, with Ianto inside, half hidden by the gloom inside his home. “Yeah, well a lot of things happened yesterday,” Ianto bit out and Jack’s heart shattered.

 

 “Ianto…” he said brokenly. “I think that we should talk about this.” It took so much for Jack not to get down on his knees and beg the telepath to let him try and make this right - and it took so much for Ianto not to kiss him hard and passionate and forgive him for everything.

 

 “And I don’t think we should talk about it.”

 

 “Please,” Jack whispered but Ianto shook his head, suppressing tears of his own. Licking his lips in an attempt to stall speaking, Ianto met Jack’s gaze. His eyes were filled with unshed tears, but they were icy and cold and unforgiving.

 

 “I’ll see you at work on Monday. Sir.”

  
 And with that, Ianto slammed the door shut on a devastated Jack, turned around, sliding heavily down the doorframe to a hopelessly lost position and promptly began to sob. 


	2. Gwen Cooper Almost Ruins Everything (as per usual)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :( :) D: :'( :0 :D (this chapter expressed in text faces, i know, i'm an artist)
> 
> also, i was thinking of writing their little 'date' thingy, just something super, super short, but i don't really have ANY plans for it, so would anyone be interested in that? 
> 
> hope you enjoy this chapter, it's one of my favourites that i've written so far tbh

 Toshiko stared him down over a cup of coffee. Her face was expressionless, some would even say bored, but Ianto knew from the tick in her eyebrow that she was gradually becoming more irritated. Owen sat lazily beside her, his own gaze fixed on Ianto.

 

 The silence became awkward.

 

 “I don’t see why you think-” Ianto began, intending to speak about Toshiko and Owen’s assurance that Jack didn’t hate him, nor doubt him, but Owen cut him off, surprising the other two at the coffee shop.

 

 “No, I don’t see why you keep thinking the worst of Jack. He’s an idiot sometimes, and he tossed around with you feelings far too much when you were first hired, and long afterwards, but this is more than a sexual attraction. I’ve seen him like that, he has a one-night stand then he forgets about them,” the medic insisted, and took a long swig of mediocre coffee. He was about to start speaking again, but this time Ianto cut him off.

 

 “Yes, but we haven’t had a ‘one-night stand’ as you put it. We haven’t had anything, in fact, so he has nothing to forget about and I have nothing to worry about, so would you just leave it?” he replied testily, avoiding his teammate’s eyes, knowing that his own gaze would prove everything wrong - would prove how vulnerable and hurt he was truly feeling.

 

 “Yes, but Jack is pursuing you,” Toshiko said, leaning over the table to take Ianto’s cold, stiff hands in hers. “He doesn’t do that, if he can’t get the guy then he leaves and he finds another. Look, I don’t find it the best coping mechanism at all, but it proves something, doesn’t it? Jack hasn’t given up on you, Ianto, and he wants to be with you in the first place, even though he’s so against workplace relationships.”

 

 Ianto didn’t say anything for a while. All of the things Toshiko was saying would have made perfect sense had it not been for two days ago. ‘Tell me, Ianto. Tell me this was the right decision,’ Jack had said to him telepathically. There was pure bitterness in his words, and Ianto had felt every stab of hatred and doubt in Jack’s mind. Well, he’d never actually considered it to be Jack’s own self-hatred, self-doubt, but surely that was understandable?

 

 Communicating telepathically used to be something the Gifted community did with everyone and anyone, but in modern day, it had become sacred almost, only to be shared with those closest to yourself. Ianto had always abstained from it in his clan when he was growing up, but when he’d met people in university (like David and Alyssa, for instance, both being Gifteds and David himself actually having been part of Demetae), he’d learnt to open up more. It was still so personal and special though and that Jack had tainted it with such negative emotions hurt. Badly.

 

 It was the main reason that Ianto had closed off their Link. Although Jack wouldn’t have been to know how to block certain emotions from entering the Link and transferring to their counterpart, Ianto was still terrified of even glancing at the solid Link in his mind, cautious even with communicating with Owen and Tosh telepathically. 

 

 “But...you didn’t feel it. He was so full of hate and it was all directed at me. My walls weren’t up, and it hurt, Tosh,” Ianto sighed finally, glancing out of the window to keep from looking at Toshiko losing hope as much as he in any chance of a romance between himself and Jack.

 

 “Yeah, but you didn’t see him afterwards, did you? After you cut off your Link and everything?” Owen asked, swallowing a large gulp of coffee. Jack had made a mistake in sending Ianto all that negative energy so soon after Lisa has destroyed his mental walls, but he wasn’t to have known, and he was rather ready to sort everything out the last time the medic had seen him.

 

 “Exactly!” Toshiko cried adamantly, her loudness grabbing Ianto’s forlorn attention. “He was devastated, Ianto, really. And he was so ready to tell you so much, to show you how much he cares, and he really does, but either you were gone or he knew you didn’t want to give him one last chance.”

 

 “But that’s it, Toshiko!” Ianto snapped, temper blowing up in an attempt to make himself seem stronger and less affected by the tech’s words. “I’ve given him so many chances, and it’s proved that he doesn’t care about me.”

 

 Exasperated, Toshiko threw herself back in her seat, folding her arms and skewering Ianto with a glare. She was admittedly more reluctant than Owen to support Jack’s pursuit of Ianto, knowing that the more time they spent with each other, the harder it would be for either of them to have disputes or arguments and the harder it would be for Jack to inevitably disappear to find this doctor he was always talking about). But on the flipside, Tosh knew Jack made Ianto so happy and vice versa. They deserved so badly to be happy with each other, and this situation she was having to deal with had thrown a spanner in the works.

 

 “Why can’t you just see that he loves you?” she asked, and Ianto flinched at the word ‘love’. It held a much different meaning now than what it had when Ianto daydreamed about loving Jack, because it had been so close to his grasp - the only reason it wasn’t in his grasp at that moment was because Ianto had seen how ugly loving someone like Jack could be.

 

 ‘No,’ he thought involuntarily. “Loving Jack would be painful, sure, but it would be so very sweet.’ Ianto craved it, having the need to wake up every morning next to Jack smiling down at him in the early morning sunshine, needed the easy domesticity of what making coffee and breakfast would be like together, needed to be able to shower the immortal with kisses and affection anyway, anytime, anywhere. 

 

 He needed Jack.

 

 “I think what Tosh is trying to say,” Owen said, slightly more gently. Honestly, Ianto had forgotten he was even there in the first place. “Jack does care about you, and we know that. And we know that you care about him back and we know that this argument will all work itself out and you two can be sickeningly lovey-dovey with each other until we hate you-” Ianto smiled slightly at the thought and Owen took it as definite progress - “but we also know that Jack won’t keep pushing if you keep rejecting him. Give him one more chance?”

 

 Breathing deeply, Ianto finished his coffee in silence. It was early on Sunday morning and Ianto hadn’t gotten much sleep last night (obviously because he was thinking about Jack) so he tried to convince himself that he shouldn’t really have been making such big decisions in his state.

 

 But then again...Ianto had decided last night that Jack didn’t care about him and his obsession was a waste of time - however, he evidently hadn’t had all of the facts. Toshiko and Owen (both of whom he trusted implicitly) had told him that Jack had forgiven him already for the decision Ianto had proposed to him, even though he also had said that there was nothing to forgive, and the information surely must have been reliable having come from them.

 

 And then when Ianto had gotten drunk on Friday night, it was Jack who had come to pick him up, given him his coat even. It was Jack who had stayed over to make sure he didn’t wake up alone and it was Jack who Toshiko and Owen were saying truly cared about him.

 

 Slowly, Ianto turned to look at the pair, who had finished their own drinks and were patiently waiting for Ianto to change his mind (and they knew that he would, he adored Jack too much to give him up so soon).

 

 “Are...are you sure about this? Are you sure that-that...that I should risk anything for him? Or is this just an idea, just a notion even, that Jack likes me back?” Ianto asked weakly, vulnerably, cringing at his awkward working.

 

 “We’re positive,” Owen assured and Toshiko nodded her head decisively in agreement.

 

 “You should go to him,” Toshiko proposed when Ianto looked ready to sink into the chair behind him and think for a good 24 hours. He’d definitely change his mind again within that short time if Owen and Tosh weren’t there to convince him otherwise and he seemed hyped up enough to forget his inhibitions, so Tosh knew now was the perfect time.

 

 “Yeah,” Ianto muttered, still undecided. 

 

 Then, not a moment later, he was nodding, scrambling out of his seat and racing out of the coffee shop, turning in the direction of the Hub.

 

* * *

 

 The Hub was near silent when Ianto arrived. He’d ran almost the whole way, and stood in the Tourist Office panting for a moment before beaming. It was finally happening, he was actually telling Jack...what exactly was he telling Jack?

 

 ‘Jack, I have something to tell you,’ sounded too ominous, Ianto decided, beginning to pace across the Tourist Office. He bit his lip, pausing every so often as he contemplated what he would say.

 

 ‘Jack, I want to say that I’m sorry,’ made it seem like he had a reason to apologise. Then again, when he thought about it, Ianto did have a reason to apologise. It was unfair to blame Jack for disrupting the positivity in their Link, he hadn’t known of the repercussions. 

 

 ‘Jack, I want to say thank you, for everything,’ was like a farewell suicide note from a crappy chick-flick, and it certainly didn’t help their current situation.

 

 ‘Jack, I have feelings for you,’ was way too direct (which also definitely ruled out ‘Jack, I’m in love with you!’ The ‘L’ word was a stretch too far).

 

 So far, all Ianto had to say was ‘Jack’. Humming thoughtfully to himself, Ianto flopped down onto the chair behind his desk, spinning childishly and idly on it before he stopped suddenly. ‘Jack’. It was simple enough really, but Ianto knew it was all he had to say. 

 

 ‘Jack’.

 

 Ianto slammed the button below his desk to open the door to the Hub, grinning as it whipped open, almost as hasty as Ianto himself.

 

 ‘Jack’. 

 

Racing down the stairs, with the largest grin on his face, Ianto felt like giggling like a schoolgirl. It was such a wonderful, relieving feeling to be so close to Jack with hope in his heart once more.

 

 ‘Jack’.

 

The thought of Jack’s perfect smile and twinkling eyes as Ianto turned the corner, jogging slower now down the corridor to the opening of the cog door. He caught his breath and actually did laugh, leaning heavily against the wall, dazed from the idea that Jack could feel the same way (even if he wasn’t completely convinced).

 

 ‘Jack’.

 

Ianto straightened his...well, he wasn’t wearing a tie, only a pair of dark jeans, muddy combat boots and a sweater. Chewing his lip nervously and contemplating nipping home to change, Ianto decided against it. His clothes were so very similar to the ones he had changed into that day he had saved Estelle from the fairies and Jack had held him close as he explained again what he was. They had good memories.

 

 ‘Jack’.

 

Finally, opening the cog door with his passwords and cringing slightly at the loud alarm. Licking his lips and running a hand through his hair in a ditch effort to make himself presentable, Ianto strode sure footedly to Jack’s office, where he was sure to be that time of day.

 

Jack…

 

 Gwen, her back to the door that Ianto slumped against in defeat, shoulders shaking with the force of her laugh. She was perched on Jack’s desk, hand grasping the immortal’s arm, practically climbing into Jack’s lap.

 

 And Jack, staring adoringly up at Gwen, a spark in his eye that Ianto had seen him with whenever he looked at anyone half attractive. He looked comfortable as he could be, leaning back in his desk chair with a hand covering his mouth, quite obviously suppressing a keen grin. 

 

 They looked in love. 

 

 Ianto sighed, his chest aching, the pain almost physical as he glanced upon the scene, Gwen leering over Jack and the captain teasingly moving away. Sure, Jack may have liked him once upon a time, but Ianto was always going to be second-place to Gwen. 

 

 “Ianto!” It was a muffled shout, from a distinctly male, American voice. Ianto’s gaze snapped up and he backed away from Jack’s office, where the immortal had stood, eyes wide and frightened as he glanced between Gwen and Ianto - it was almost like seeing a man with his girlfriend and his ‘side-chick’.

 

 Gwen stood, this time with her arms folded behind Jack, staring smugly at the telepath. Her lips were curled with twisted amusement as Ianto turned on his heel and quickly walked away. He wouldn’t run, he told himself, because he wasn’t weak. 

 

 ‘I can deal with rejection,’ Ianto tried to convince himself, so close to tears. He’d been about to give his heart to Jack, about to give him his unconditional love and trust and Jack had...was it even betrayal if they were never even together to begin with? 

 

 He’d gotten through the cog door and halfway down the corridor, past a turn into the stairway when he broke. 

 

 Loud sobs filled the corridor and Ianto thought stupidly that the long strip of passageway had rather fantastic acoustics. Laughing hollowly at the stupidity of the situation, Ianto slumped against one of the grey, slightly damp walls, covering his mouth to try and hide the sounds of his crying. He didn’t really know why, because there was no-one there to hide them from but himself. 

 

 His chest heaved as tears spilled down his cheeks, hot streaks of salty fire against his skin. Throat burning, Ianto tried to take a deep, steady breath, but it paused, shuddering, so he stopped trying. 

 

 The fact that he had been so invested in Jack that he was close to a panic attack because of his rejection stung, in a way that once would have been sweet and reassuring (the fact that Ianto was in such adoration that he would never allow Jack to get hurt and by proxy, the rest of his team, although that was a given) but now was painful. Jack couldn’t give him anything in return but Ianto’s own longing.

 

 He was so oblivious to anything but his own pain in that instant that Ianto didn’t notice the sounds of feet running towards him before they were right beside him. 

 

 “Ianto?” Jack asked, his voice tiny and soft and timid. He stepped out in front of the telepath, taking in the sight of his tear-stained face and shaking, heaving shoulders and went to hold Ianto’s hands tightly in his own, craving the contact as much as Ianto seemed to need it.

 

 “Don’t touch me!” Ianto cried, ineffectively backing away from Jack, straight into the wall millimetres behind him.

 

 Desperate and hurt, Jack whispered Ianto’s name and the telepath shook his head stubbornly. Resolutely ignoring Jack’s pleading gaze, Ianto stated, his voice not as harsh as he had hoped, “You don’t get to be nice to me one second and then throw me away for Gwen the next.”

 

 Confused, Jack shook his head. “What does Gwen have to do...Ianto, that wasn’t what you thought it was, please-”

 

 “Then what was it?!” Ianto shouted, glaring at Jack through tear-soaked eyelashes. The other man glared right back, not quite angry but agitated that Ianto wouldn’t let him explain and probably wouldn’t believe him when he did. 

 

 “Gwen was coming on to me, I was uncomfortable. I let her in my office in the first place, before you ask, because I was heartbroken over you,” Jack replied lowly, his voice starting harsh and irritated before fading into one of vulnerable despair.

 

 Sobbing once, Ianto muttered that it wasn’t the truth and that Jack had no reason to be heartbroken. Smiling sadly, Jack disagreed. “It’s the truth, Ianto.”

 

 “I don’t believe you,” Ianto sniffled, wiping away fresh tears with his shirt sleeve. The smile, however dejected it was, fell immediately from Jack’s face. Ianto almost missed it. Grabbing one of Ianto’s hands and refusing to let go despite Ianto’s fierce protest.

 

 “This bond we have, in here-” Jack brought Ianto’s hand along with his own up to his temple and tightened his grip. “You called it a Link, right?” At Ianto’s shuddering nod, Jack continued, shuffling just slightly closer to the telepath. Ianto had nowhere to run.

 

 “You closed it off, shut it down or something. You cut me out, didn’t you?” Jack asked, not needing an answer. Avoiding the immortal’s piercing, grief-stricken gaze, Ianto glanced down at the floor. “Look at me, Ianto,” Jack mumbled and when Ianto shook his head silently, he gently took the Gifted’s chin in his free hand and turned Ianto’s face to look at him,

 

 “Bring the Link back. Let me back into your mind and let yourself back into mine,” Jack ordered, and Ianto sobbed helplessly. He couldn’t, he refused to; the Link between them was tainted and if Ianto brought it back now, all he would feel from Jack was the longing he had for Gwen, the anger he still had at Ianto.

 

 “No,” Ianto gasped, breathing out a slow, shuddering breath as Jack entwined their fingers on one of their hands, the joint pair. Silently, he asked again and again Ianto refused.

 

 “The last thing you felt for me was hate, Jack. And now all you feel is rage, aggravation at the very least at me. You keep trying to prove that you care about me, this isn’t the way to do it,” Ianto sniffed, suppressing the new wave of tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in concern.

 

 “Please. I promise you, you will feel nothing but tenderness and devotion from me,” Jack insisted, his voice strong but begging. After a long moment of silence, Ianto decided.

 

 Their Link was a strange things inside of Ianto’s head. It reminded him of home, and coziness, mugs of coffee and spicy gingerbread. A kick of heat here and there as he searched through his mind for the metaphorical key to reopen their Link with one another, but other than that, Ianto felt perfectly comfortable. Other than, of course the nagging fear because he was accessing a part of his mind, his Link with Jack, which he had promised to never even think about again.

 

 Reopening their Link was easy; all it took was the tiniest burst of magic against the sealed edges between their two minds and Ianto and Jack would be able to do anything. Communicate telepathically. Feel each other’s emotions. Gain strength from one another. Feel complete, just in general.

 

 Ianto felt a second of pure fear at what he was about to experience, but he decided at least once more to take Jack’s word for it and tore down the mental walls cutting off their Link.

 

 God, it felt like every emotion at once.

 

 It was a pure bombardment - all Ianto could see was white, but it was a blissful high he was on and he didn’t want to come down. He had never actually cut himself off from Jack’s mind before and the telepath had never realised how addictive the sensation was. He was vaguely aware of his own quiet noises as he buried his face in Jack’s neck, arms going up to surround his neck.

 

 Memories filtered through, rapid-fire thoughts and pale, barely there, but beautiful emotions. All from Jack, and Ianto had no doubt that the immortal was experiencing the same thing. A conversation after they’d let Jasmine go, in the Suv with Tosh and Owen. Jack forgiving him for something ‘he didn’t need to be forgiven for’. Ianto staring at himself through Jack’s memories, sprawled asleep on his bed but still clearly drunk. Jack’s fondness, so pure and sweet and real. A conversation via phone with Estelle, explaining the situation with Ianto, the devastation Jack had been feeling. Gwen coming to visit, subtly propositioning Jack, him moving away, uncomfortable. Seeing Ianto by the door. Fear, but also hope, Running after him down the corridor, and then…

 

 Their minds mingled, running out of memories to catch up on. Ianto gasped, seeing his own ‘mind’ mix with the scent of gingerbread, taste of hot coffee and feel of soft blankets and soft hugs from Jack’s mind. It just looked and felt so right, even though Ianto couldn’t really see what his own mind was, hazy considering he was looking at it.

 

 Ianto half-pulled away from the stupor he had been in, drunk on Jack’s thoughts and emotions and suddenly a pair of warm, slightly chapped lips met his own. Both Jack and Ianto weren’t sure who started the first kiss, but it didn’t matter because they were finally kissing each other.

 

 Ianto always had high expectations from Jack in terms of kissing, but it was so much more remarkable than what he had hoped for. Pouring everything, all the passion he had, into their liplock, Jack curled his free arm around Ianto’s waist, stumbling forwards slightly until the other’s back hit the wall. His other hand tightened around Ianto’s pressing them up and in between their chests, subconsciously over where his heart was. Ianto reached his own free hand up to tangle in Jack’s smooth, silky, brown locks, tugging ever so slightly and earning a hiss of pleasure from Jack. 

 

 Every so often, Jack would break away from their kiss for air, his breath hot against Ianto’s lips. Impatiently, Ianto whined lowly and dragged him back down, and they kissed again and again and again, Ianto trying to press as much of his skin against Jack’s as possible. Some time in between kisses, Ianto had started crying again, but they were happy tears this time, and Jack was close to joining them with his own.

 

 They broke apart properly, Ianto half-sobbing, half-laughing against Jack’s mouth. Their eyes met, both of them filled with tears, some unshed, but both bright and warm and happy. Adoration sang through their Link and Ianto leant his head forwards slightly, nose brushing the side of Jack’s, bathing in the sweet feeling of Jack’s fondness.

 

 “So,” Ianto began, but his voice was raspy and too quiet. Clearing his throat and licking his kiss-bitten lips nervously, Ianto tried again. “You weren’t lying. I’m sorry that I said you were,” he whispered.

 

 Jack smiled, sighing in pleasure as Ianto shuffled further forwards and more into Jack’s secure embrace, trailing one hand down from its entanglement in Jack’s hair to a loose drape over his captain’s shoulders. “I won’t lie to you. I didn’t want Gwen, I’ll never want Gwen. Just you. Only you.”

 

 With a sharp inhale of breath, Ianto closed his eyes and pressed his index and middle finger to Jack’s temple. It wasn’t needed for what Ianto wanted to do, but he liked the aesthetic of it. Slowly, Ianto gathered his emotions, all his enchantment and amity for Jack, and passed it through their Link. It was powerful, everything Ianto had tried desperately to hold back and Jack shuddered when he felt it, knees feeling particularly weak.

 

 “I...I-I’d like to think we have some things to talk about. This is all very…” Jack began, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable and nervous. 

 

 “Sudden?” Ianto guessed, but Jack smiled, pecking him simply on the lips and shook his head no.

 

 “I wouldn’t say that. We’ve been dancing around each other for months, we’ve just never been this…” he trailed off again.

 

 “Desperate?” Jack chuckled and nodded, bringing Ianto’s hand up to press a small kiss to it. It was as if he was addicted to the right he now seemed to have to give Ianto affection and he was using it as much as he possibly could.

 

 “I...we could go over to mine. Talk. Lovely little cafe down the street, serves the nicest tea,” Ianto rambled on, blushing when Jack looked down at him with a pure beam. He leant back slightly to scrutinise the telepath better, who squirmed under his gaze.

 

 “Mr Jones, are you asking me out on a date?” Jack asked cheekily, teasing the younger man just because he knew he could. In reality, Jack was gushing, jumping for joy on the inside, but he kept up the flippancy so as to not scare off Ianto with too much too soon.

 

 Smirking (and throwing Jack for a loop in the process, who wasn’t used to Ianto being at all confident), Ianto pushed himself up to be plastered once again, chest to chest with Jack, their lips almost touching. “Why yes, Mr Harkness, I am.”

 

 Breath caught in his throat to even be allowed another chance, Jack nodded. “Then let’s go see about that lovely little cafe you were talking about.”


End file.
